“I am not interested in the money,” Petrovich says. “I need the expertise.”
“We need more information,” I interject. I’m not a fan of hearing Naomi being referred to as a man, especially one that Petrovich wants. “We don’t have the time.”
Mendoza nods and then reaches for the phone on his desk. He is too far away for us to hear even though I’m straining. We all are.
“What’s he saying?” Regan asks. The Portuguese is too faint and rapid for me to make out.
“Not sure, but he mentioned the consulate.”
When Mendoza returns to us, he says, “I’m having someone come who may be able to provide some insight. Until then, let’s have something to eat.”
A spread of fresh fruits, meats and cheeses is set out buffet style in another room, one that faces the large gravel area and the burn marks.
“What have you got going on here?” I ask Mendoza as we stand in front of the large windows.
“Security, Daniel.”
“I’ve heard that you were doing freelance work after you separated from the army.”
“I’ve heard the same about you.”
“My sister was kidnapped. I had to find her. Making money killing bad guys while trying to gather information seemed like a bonus,” I reply.
“And for me, I need money to build my army here.” He taps the window. A throng of young kids have come to the top of the hill, and they move down the gravel expanse toward a grassy field I didn’t see initially. “These people are my family. Did you know that the Roman Empire was so powerful that the citizens could walk throughout the land unmolested? It was known that even the least of the citizens was so important to the empire that if even one was maimed, the entire beast would fall upon the violator’s head. I want that for my people. I want for them to walk through any street in Brazil or Africa or the United States and for people to know that if one of mine is hurt, the entire hand of God will rain vengeance upon them and their family. Hudson is a blot on our record, and this is a perfect opportunity for me to make a show of power. So I’ll help you, and then someday you can return the favor.”
“No problem.” Madmen and their compounds. I need to get me one of those.
A scuffle outside draws my attention to the front doors. The soccer game has stopped, and the children stand in a loose line as a man is brought to the field. He is strapped down onto the granite slab. Many of the children disperse but a few older ones remain.
“Regan,” Mendoza calls out. “We need an identification.”
We troop out into the sun toward the granite altar. When we reach it, the man is securely tied spread eagle on the slab. He is completely naked, and there is a leash around his dick, pulling it downward between his legs.
“It’s Gomes,” Regan says in a gasp.
Mendoza nods at one of his soldiers who holds a whip-like object in his hand. “Positive ID confirmed.” At the nod, the whip sails out and lands with a snap right between Gomes’ legs. Petrovich and I grimace while everyone else stands there like this is any other Saturday. Gomes’ screams ring out in the courtyard, scaring up birds and other small animals in the foliage. With a backward glance, I note that the five or so kids left on the soccer field are still motionless, as if they are in class learning exactly how to run a mercenary empire.
“Ask your questions,” Mendoza orders. Regan and Petrovich look to me. Scratching my head, I lean over—not too close because I don’t want the whip to accidentally strike me in the balls.
“Gomes, you look really uncomfortable.”
He’s sniveling; tears and snot are running down his face. It’s an ugly look for him. “Let me go,” he pleads. “I know nothing.”
“The thing is, we kind of know that’s a lie.” I give a nod to Mendoza, who relays the silent order to his whip man. The leather sails out, and now that I’m closer I see there is a granite ball at the end. It makes another thud as granite strikes granite, the small column of flesh doing little to cushion the impact. Even though I’m expecting the blow, I still cringe—but maybe that’s due to the high-pitched scream coming out of Gomes’ mouth.
As sadistic as this is, though, it’s the right punishment if you believe in the eye for an eye concept which Mendoza clearly ascribes to. Gomes is slobbering now. “Why Regan?” I ask.
He turns slightly, his eyes unfocused with pain. “Hudson likes blondes. They remind him of his wife. But this one, so mouthy. Hudson sends her to me for training.”
“Then what?”
He opens his mouth and then closes it.
“Bad choice,” I counsel and look up to Mendoza. The ball falls again and this time I’m prepared. I don’t think Gomes is though. We wait until the pain and screams subside, and I ask him again. “What happens when the girls are trained?”
“They go back into his compound. They serve as his companion until . . .” Gomes trails off, but we can all finish his sentence for him.
Mendoza waves his hand and the men disappear and the kids go back to kicking their soccer ball.
“There’s your way in,” he says with a pointed look toward Regan.
“No,” I shake my head. “Not happening. We’ll think of something else.”
“There is no other way,” Petrovich argues.
I look at Regan because right now she’s the only one who matters. I don’t want to leave my sister in the hands of Hudson, but I can’t send Regan back to be raped again. I won’t. There’s another way. I have to figure it out.
Twenty-two
Regan
DANIEL ’S GOT AN AWFUL LOOK on his face. It’s the look of despair, of a man who’s backed into a corner and has no way out.
He can either send me in to Hudson’s hell in the hopes of getting his sister or he can forget about her. Either way, he’s miserable. He shakes his head again at Mendoza. “Fucking forget it, man. I just got Regan out of there. No way in hell am I sending her back to that sadist.”
The big Russian, Vasily, only looks over at me, as if waiting for me to interject. To him, I’m another playing piece, one that is obviously only useful on my back. He’s not wrong, though. I’m the one mucking up all the works, here. I’m the one who slowed Daniel down. If it wasn’t for me, would he already have his sister back?
“How long?” I ask.
“Regan, no,” Daniel’s voice is furious. “I’m not sending you back in to be raped—”